


The Roar of the Crowd

by glorifiedscapegoat



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: First Strike, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25629460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorifiedscapegoat/pseuds/glorifiedscapegoat
Summary: Yuri glanced over and saw a handful of women tossing dry logs into the bonfire. The flames crackled and shot up high, sending elongated shadows across the cobblestone street. The flames lit up Flynn’s hair, shimmered off Chastel’s golden irises, and Yuri suppressed a groan.It wasn’t that he minded them dancing together. It was just—gah, if they were going to dance together, would it kill them to dance like teenagers instead of two grandparents afraid of embarrassing their grandchildren?
Relationships: Yuri Lowell/Flynn Scifo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	The Roar of the Crowd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Weisel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weisel/gifts).



> This is just a small gift I wrote for my friend Weisel. We've both been working hard on our writing, and I wanted to show my support by writing something from _Tales of Vesperia_. I've started playing it on my Nintendo Switch again, and I'm a huge sucker for the Fluri ship.
> 
> This particular fic takes place during the _First Strike_ canon, sort of, focusing on some downtime when Yuri was still a member of the Knights. Just something lighthearted between Flynn and Yuri.
> 
> I hope it's enjoyable! :3

From beneath the awning outside the local pub, Yuri Lowell couldn’t see the center of the festivities. He could, however, see the crowd forming in the cobblestone square. The golden lights strung from the nearby windows, streetlamps, and along the sidewalks illuminated the town, casting a gentle glow in the early evening air.

Yuri inhaled, tasting the scents and flavors of the festival. Popped corn and sweet pastries danced through the air, making his mouth water. The food was one of Yuri’s favorite parts of festivals, especially near the Knight’s barracks. Some of the locals seemed to believe that providing excellent food for the Knights’ consumption offered them better protection. Yuri didn’t agree with that, by principle, but he couldn’t deny that he was a sucker for decent cooking.

The chill of early autumn kissed his cheeks. Yuri liked the cooler months. His favorite clothing style tended to be heavy and dark—although joining the Knights had required him to wear pale blues and ivories as part of a uniform—and such a style was better suited for crisper weather.

Yuri slowly wandered through the crowd. He couldn’t remember what this particular festival was intended to be celebrating, but it didn’t matter. He was just grateful for the night off. Usually he drew the short straw and got stuck on duty during these kinds of events.

This time, however, fortune had smiled on him. It'd taken all of Yuri’s restraint to avoid whooping out loud when he got the notice that he’d be released from duty for the night, but was expected to report back first thing in the morning. Not much of a vacation, but anything was better than marching around in heavy armor and saying, “Yes, sir!” to everything his superiors said.

Yuri drifted around the assembly of people. It was almost nice to see how the locals and the Knights mingled during these events. Even those who didn’t enjoy the Knights’ presence seemed to forget whatever conflicts they had in favor of a good celebration. Yuri caught sights of that infamous pale blue uniform speckled around the group, Knights chatting and laughing and drinking with friends and family.

Taking advantage of the free time to its fullest, Yuri had dressed in a plain black tunic and a pair of slacks. The only thing he kept from his Knight’s uniform was his boots, because they were sturdy and they made him feel like a bad-ass.

A towering bonfire effigy had been built from a mountain of dry sticks. It smoked in the center of the square, an inferno of reds and oranges and silvers. The cracking of the branches as the flames consumed them lanced through the music wheedling from a patched-together stage, where an assortment of musicians cranked out fast-paced melodies for the crowd to dance to.

Despite all the excitement of the festivities—the bonfire, the dancing, the delicious food and pretty lights—Yuri felt his good mood begin to sour.

Flynn, by some stroke of luck, had also been given the night off. Yuri mentioned that they should attend the festival together, after being informed that he and his companion were fortunate enough to share a common day without work.

But Flynn, ever the rule-follower, had informed Yuri he intended to avoid most of the festivities. He didn't plan to spend long outside, and believed Yuri would have a far better time if they were separated. Flynn, it seemed, didn't want to hold Yuri back from enjoying his time at the festival—but Yuri's smile had dropped all the same. He'd shrugged it off as _no big deal_ and slipped into bed, turning his back to Flynn and staring daggers into the wall for the rest of the cold evening.

Yuri frowned. Everyone else seemed to be dancing and enjoying the night, but he couldn't shake his head clear from the rejection that sank into his soul.

He'd seen Flynn, when he arrived an hour ago. He'd dressed down, though not by much. He spotted Yuri and gave him a small wave, but made no attempt to come over and say hi. Yuri didn't feel like being polite. He'd turned his nose up and slipped into the crowd, his stomach clenching at the surprised look that bled across Flynn's face at his sudden and open hostility.

_Whatever_ , Yuri thought, folding his arms. It didn't really matter, he supposed. He and Flynn had never been anything more than friends, and if Flynn didn't want to spend time at a festival with Yuri, then so what?

He stared up at the evening sky, listening to the music and watching the stars. The concern that streaked through the town disappeared under cover of night. The festivities allowed them to momentarily forget their worries. With the Knights milling around in and out of uniform, the citizens felt safe enough to run wild in the streets, hooting and hollering and pouring alcohol down their throats.

"Yuri!"

He glanced over, spotting Chastel Aiheap in the crowd. He relaxed. He hadn't expected to see his Knight superior, but he couldn't deny the wave of excitement that washed over him at the sight of her face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Chastel _this_ relaxed.” Hisca walked over to him, shouting above the music, holding her long black skirt out of the dirt. It was odd to see her out of uniform, but Yuri figured it would look weird to be dancing in armor.

Hisca took her place beside him and gestured to the crowd. Curious as to what his Knight senior looked like when she cut loose, Yuri turned to watch her dance.

Like her sister, Chastel had taken her hair down, and it cascaded around her shoulders in fiery red waves. A loose blue skirt swished around her hips as she swayed back and forth, arms held above her head. It was in no way _wild_ , but Yuri supposed for a Knight with as much discipline as Chastel Aiheap, being out of uniform in front of a boy was _something_ , at least.

Flynn was in front of her, moving back and forth to the music. He stood a good foot away from Chastel, hands at his sides, and the glimmer of firelight caught the edges of his blond hair. The band played, whooping and shouting to the handful of couples that danced, but Flynn and Chastel continued to move like tortoises. Flynn kept his head down, as if afraid someone in the crowd would recognize him.

Yuri couldn’t tell whose dancing was worse—Chastel’s or Flynn’s. Watching them sent a pain through him. He clenched his lips together in a thin line.

“Are you OK?” Hisca’s hand went to the small of his back.

“It’s just—Ugh, _look_ at them. They dance like _old people_.”

Hisca narrowed her eyes and turned to regard Flynn and Chastel. “Well, I guess this is _wild_ for them.” She pushed a loose strand of scarlet hair behind her ear. “Let them have their fun. Not every day we get to relax like this.”

Yuri glanced over and saw a handful of women tossing dry logs into the bonfire. The flames crackled and shot up high, sending elongated shadows across the cobblestone ground. The flames lit up Flynn’s hair, shimmered off Chastel’s golden irises, and Yuri suppressed a groan.

It wasn’t that he _minded_ them dancing together. It was just—gah, if they were _going_ to dance together, would it kill them to dance like teenagers instead of two grandparents afraid of embarrassing their grandchildren?

A tall man passed in front of Yuri just then, guzzling a large bottle of ale, barely recognizable under the mess of flowers perched on top of his head. Yuri squinted and thought he recognized the man as a senior officer, but he couldn’t be certain.

The man swung his arms down, popping the bottle of gin from his lips with an obscene _smack_. The bottle went whistling through the air, nearly striking Yuri in the head. He caught it without effort, and the man—too drunk to notice or care—stumbled off into the crowds without his booze.

Yuri stared at the half-empty bottle of gin clutched in his fist. He’d had sips before, but never a whole drink. He wiped the rim of the bottle on the hem of his tunic. He didn’t bother looking at Hisca, ignoring her cry of “Yuri, what are you _doing?_ ”, and tipped his head back. The spicy brew met the tip of his tongue with a burning surge. He let half the bottle’s remaining contents singe its way down the back of his throat.

He drew away from the bottle with a loud gasp. The stinging taste of the liquor lingered in the mouth, sending warm shocks down his spine and through his stomach. He turned to see Hisca staring at him with wide eyes. He offered the bottle to her with a questioning grunt.

Hisca’s cheeks went crimson, and she took a step back. “Are you nuts? We’re _underage!_ We can’t drink—”

“Nobody saw me,” said Yuri with an inelegant shrug.

“That’s not the point! You can’t just _do_ things like that, Yuri!”

He shrugged again and went to finish off the rest of the bottle, but after catching the way Hisca’s teeth sunk into her lower lip, he paused. He lowered the bottle and stared at her, uncertain if he should offer it to her again or just throw it away.

Hisca shifted her hips, glancing toward Flynn and her sister, who were still focused on swaying to the music. She looked up at Yuri through long, red lashes. “How’s it taste?”

Yuri eyeballed the bottle and closed one eye, peering into the translucent glass. Inside, a pale liquid sloshed around, the scent overpowering his nostrils. “Kind of bitter. Nothing I’d drink a ton of. Burns a bit going down.”

Hisca gave the bottle a long, hard look, glanced over to see if Chastel was watching, and then took the bottle from Yuri’s hand. She hesitated, which gave Yuri a chance to advise her to, “Drink it all at once.” She tipped her head back and quickly drained the bottle before she had a chance to talk herself out of it. The loud _glug-glug_ of liquid sloshing through the bottle dissipated in the loud thumping of the band playing.

Hisca pulled the bottle away and shuddered, face scrunched at the bitter taste. She thrust the bottle back into Yuri’s hands. He shook it, found it empty, and laughed, to which Hisca gave him a sharp punch in the shoulder.

Tossing the bottle aside, ignoring the shattering of glass close to his right, Yuri grabbed Hisca’s wrist and tugged her toward the raging bonfire. “Come on,” he said, feeling as if he were swimming through air. “Let’s show these _crones_ how it’s done!”

The crowd of dancing men and women parted as Hisca and Yuri took their spot in front of the bonfire. Yuri let go of Hisca’s wrist, and the two of them plunged into a wild dance. The edges of Hisca’s crimson hair glittered in the furious light of the bonfire.

The two of them leaned forward, keeping their bodies less than a foot apart. Facing each other, they dipped to the cobblestone floor, letting their dark and light hair spin around as they came up. Two steps forward, three stomps back. Then two stomps forward so that their noses were inches apart, shoulders pressed close. Never having been one to let loose, it was odd to see Hisca so involved in the dance. Having broken one rule, even though no one had seen, Yuri supposed Hisca had convinced herself allowing herself to dance freely with one of her friends wouldn’t ruin her reputation.

Yuri and Hisca didn’t think about which way to turn or which way the other would move. Much like working together in a fight, they responded to each other’s movements and actions, and it worked beautifully. Arms and legs loose, they spun and kicked their feet and lifted their hands to meet each other’s. Hisca threw back her head with a loud, rapturous laugh.

Yuri grasped Hisca’s upper arm and spun her away. As she turned with a piercing shriek, he turned back—and found Chastel and Flynn staring at him.

Their expressions mirrored each other perfectly. Flynn’s sapphire irises shone tar-black in the firelight, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Chastel gaped as her sister twirled around and collided with Yuri’s back; he gave a good-natured laugh and turned away from Chastel and Flynn’s gazes and seized Hisca around the waist, hoisting her up and setting her gently back on the cobblestones.

Yuri ignored the shocked gazes of his superiors. He and Hisca moved together, encouraged by the whooping and hollering of the crowd watching them, dancing in time to the loud thumps of music, the crackling of flames, and the sound of their own laughter.

Yuri sent a few glances toward the whirling bodies of a couple dancing close to him and Hisca. He saw Flynn looking away, and in the darkness it seemed as though his cheeks were flushed. He pretended not to notice the way Hisca and Yuri moved close to each other, looking at the bonfire and the other couples dancing and over at Chastel, whose fists clenched and unclenched at her sides.

Their dance ended as the music came to a loud, silencing end. Cheers erupted from the crowd, a clear chant for _more_. Yuri and Hisca stood opposite each other, chests heaving with much-needed breath. Hisca gave him a wide, toothy grin, and Yuri returned it with a breathless laugh.

The music started up again without warning, but Hisca didn’t stay to dance with him again. Thumping him on the shoulder, she tripped off toward the crowd as men and women began to dance again. This song was louder and faster than the one before it.

Yuri frowned. He would have enjoyed dancing to _this one_ even more. Ah, well. There would be other times. He turned to head out of the crowd, bored with dancing—and crashed right into something solid.

“Ow!” Yuri staggered back, unprepared for something to be in his path, and stumbled. He shot his arms out to catch at something— _anything_ —and arms grasped at his waist, keeping him upright.

He blinked, shocked that someone had actually tried to catch him. He looked up and found himself staring into the disapproving gaze of Flynn Scifo himself. It took Yuri only a moment to realize that _Flynn_ had been the one Yuri had crashed into.

Yuri gave him a stupid grin and straightened himself, reaching his arms out to twine around Flynn’s shoulders. “So, how’d you enjoy the dance, Mister Perfectionist? Were my steps in time with the music, or was I off a few beats?”

Flynn grasped Yuri’s wrists and untangled his arms from around his neck. He shoved them down at Yuri’s sides. “I hardly expected you to make a fool of yourself. I can’t believe you managed to drag Hisca into it.”

“Don’t blame me,” Yuri said with a half-hearted shrug. Flynn’s grip on his wrists was loose, but Yuri’s skin burned where Flynn touched him. “How was I supposed to know gin would make her act like that?”

“ _Gin?_ ” Flynn sputtered. “You’ve been _drinking?_ ”

Yuri groaned, moving to extract his wrists from Flynn’s grasp. “You sound like an old man. Have a drink. Maybe it’ll loosen _you_ up, and then you can, you know, actually have _fun_ for once.”

“ _Yuri!_ ” Flynn’s grip on his wrists tightened, keeping Yuri from pulling away. He winced at the sensation, the sharp nails of Flynn’s fingers digging into the soft flesh above his veins. Flynn dragged him forward until they were standing eye-to-eye. “You can’t just do whatever you want! I don’t care if it is a festival. We’re K _nights!_ We have a reputation to uphold, and if you’re not going to obey the law—”

“Would you get off my back already?” Yuri ripped his wrists out of Flynn’s grasp and stepped back, almost crashing into a dancing couple. “Geez, Flynn, would it kill you to shut it off for _one day?_ ”

“We’re _Knights_ , Yuri,” Flynn said again, through his teeth. “We can’t afford to _shut it off_.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Of course not. _What_ was I thinking?”

Flynn narrowed his eyes, and Yuri scoffed. What had he been thinking? Of course Flynn would never turn it off. Being a Knight had been his dream since he was a little boy. He'd done everything in his power to become the man he was today, standing before Yuri in a dressed-down version of the Knights' uniform, lecturing Yuri about underage drinking and the importance of remaining on duty even during their approved downtime.

"Screw this," Yuri spat, shouldering his way past Flynn. "Just leave me alone. That's what you wanted anyways, wasn't it?"

Flynn jerked back as Yuri's shoulder struck his; shock darted across his features. His sapphire eyes were dark in the dim light glittering from the bonfire. The music bumped around them, pulsing through the stones beneath their boots.

"What," he said slowly, "are you talking about?"

"When I asked you last night," Yuri said, the swell of rejection spiking through him once again. He shoved it down into the pit of his stomach, where it sat coiled like a venomous snake. "You said it would be best if you didn't come with me, so why are you bothering now?" He brushed his hand toward the crowd. "So why don't you just go? Clearly you don't want to be here."

Flynn's expression dropped. "That's not what I meant. Did you take it that way?"

"What _other way_ was I supposed to take it?"

"I'm just not fun at these things." Flynn folded his hands in front of his stomach. The music had shifted behind them; the fast-paced song drifted away, and a new one began. A haunting melody, a much slower dance than Yuri expected was appropriate for a festival. "I wasn't planning on staying long, and I didn't want you to feel like you were obligated to leave if I did."

"I don't feel obligated to do _anything_." Yuri folded his arms. "If you wanted to leave and I wanted to stay, then I would have. But I wish you'd told me that."

"All right," Flynn allowed. "And I wish you'd told me that what I said bothered you."

Yuri lifted his eyes and stared at him. Flynn stared back at him, an equally stubborn expression plastered on his face. The heat from the bonfire had slowly begun to creep up Yuri's face. He felt it itching beneath his skin, settling deep inside like tiny barbs.

He dropped his folded arms with a huff and said, "I guess we're both idiots, aren't we?"

Flynn regarded him for a moment before sighing. "Yeah, I guess we are."

"Sorry for being a jackass."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Yuri raised an eyebrow, and Flynn's lips quirked upward in a smile.

Yuri had never been particularly good at being angry with Flynn. He huffed out and laugh and took a step back. Behind him, the crowd had begun to sway together in a slow-dance. Chastel and Hisca had vanished, swallowed up by the crowd and into the darkness. The crackling of the broken sticks snapped through the breaks in the music; it was something for Yuri to focus on.

"You really shouldn't be drinking, though," Flynn added.

"OK, Mom."

"Yuri, I'm serious."

"I know you are." Yuri folded his arms again, loosely across his chest. A warm buzz had started to drift through him as he watched the crowd dance. They weren't coordinated or in sync with each other, but it was... nice, he supposed.

Flynn followed his gaze and watched quietly. He edged slowly toward Yuri. "Did you want to keep dancing?"

"No," Yuri said, surprised to find that he meant it. He turned his back to the crowd. "I'm actually pretty tired. I was thinking of heading back to the room." He took a few steps forward, the soles of his boots echoing on the stones. He paused when he didn't hear a second set of boots, and turned back to Flynn. "How about you?"

"Yeah," Flynn said, much too quickly. "Yeah, let's head back."

He hurried to match Yuri's pace as they quickly walked down the street and back toward the barracks. The music and the sounds of the crowd vanished behind them, the bonfire's crackling heat disappearing. It was quickly replaced with another sense of warmth Yuri had no name for, a warmth that started in the center of his chest and buzzed its way down each nerve ending.

And if he and Flynn walked a little bit closer to each other than normal, well, who exactly was going to notice?

**Author's Note:**

> Interested in some more awesome stuff and random nonsense? Then come hang out with me on Tumblr: **https://glorifiedscapegoat.tumblr.com/**


End file.
